


desert places

by monado



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grieving, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Parent Death, Introspection, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, anger issues, just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19842400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monado/pseuds/monado
Summary: It always comes back around to himself.





	desert places

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been reworked 3 whole times since 2017. i havent posted it because i wanted to finish it first but you know what? fuck it. i like this and i want to show people. enjoy.

Now, it -- it’s not going to be that awkward. It normally isn’t (and yeah, Takumi’s been ending up here often enough to have a sense of _normal_ and _usual)_ , but the uniquely disdainful atmosphere is driving him nuts. Namely, the stupid, perfectly coiffed head of hair that Takumi’s trying to telepathically shave off, or stick gum into, or something. God knows the prick would deserve it.

The smarmy bane of Takumi’s existence, of course, is the source of the problem. As usual. But this time, his swagger into the hallway, his stupid perfect teeth arced into a leering grin -- this time, they led towards a different direction than the usual, simple side-eye. Apparently, the _asshole_ hadn’t had enough of tormenting him, of trying to shrink him down to the size of an ant to crush him under his little pointy-toed loafers.

Yeah, Takumi threw the first punch. But what kind of piece of shit confronts someone in the hallways and proceeds to dig at information _no one_ was supposed to know about? It wasn’t just an act of tactlessness, oh no; Leo knew what he was doing. And really, when you think about it, it’s only natural that Takumi would swing a punch right at that smug, upturned cheek. He didn’t necessarily expect a blow to come flying back at him, but whatever, it gave him more of a reason to keep swinging.

Yeah, Takumi’s not exactly _innocent_. But if Leo hadn’t provoked him, they wouldn’t be here, and that's that.

Maybe it really _is_ going to be awkward. Takumi’s certainly not going to say anything, and it doesn’t look like the snake in front of him will either. And really, that’s more than fine. The wine-purple of the bruises he knows discolours scary-pale skin is reward enough to satisfy him through an hour of tense silence -- an hour that would otherwise be very testing, due to the company.

He taps his fingers against the desk.

He doesn’t think he’s ever hated someone so much. 

It started with a quiet judgement, a general dislike of the know-it-all from homeroom who spoke to others as if they were some sort of inferior. He was annoying, his friends were weird, and Takumi held nothing but suspicion towards them all.

Philosophy class sucked on account of their terrible teacher, so Takumi tried to make the most of it -- why wouldn’t he? But _Leo_ took his participation as some sort of threat, and tried to correct him at every interval, with a disaffected aura that made everything a hundred times worse. He clearly saw Takumi as some kind of idiot to be set straight, and, simply put, Takumi has been _far_ from Leo’s biggest fan for a long time.

Then he opened his mouth and actually spoke to Takumi, one-on-one. 

And what kind of prick rags on another student like that _?_ The same student he’d been harassing and questioning the intelligence of for the past semester? It’s not the first argument they’ve come into, not at all, but it’s certainly the most personal one. At least Takumi finally got to show him what he thinks of him.

The burning in his stomach is quelled a bit, but it’s grown to triple its capacity anyway. Takumi hopes Leo trips down the stairs on his way out and breaks every one of his fragile little bones.

He’s directed his attention towards the swaying trees by the nearest window when he hears a quiet snort. His head whips around, ponytail almost giving him whiplash, and he’s staring at Leo’s back. The asshole sighs and turns his torso around to drape fluidly over the back of his chair, and fury begins its slow ascent up Takumi’s throat. Just making eye contact is enough to make him want to growl. There’s nothing but cold, sure condescension in Mr. Number One Asshole’s gaze, and as usual, it sets him on edge like nothing else.

But then the bitch blinks and says, “Listen. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

Something in his expression takes Takumi aback. It makes him angry, a familiar throbbing pulse that Takumi slides into like a second skin.

He’s kinda pissed the supervising teacher didn’t shush the bastard as soon as he spoke, but he supposes it plays into their whole policy of “just let the kids work it out!” The teacher doesn’t seem to realize that Takumi _can_ and _will_ hit the piece of shit again if he has to. “So you _didn’t_ come up to me in the middle of a busy hallway to harass me about my,” he takes a pointed pause, “ _daddy issues?"_

And, oh, that gets his hackles raised. A crude grin that’s more of a snarl spreads across Takumi’s cheeks, and it hurts a bit, but he can’t help it. The spoiled brat, looking like he just ate something repulsive, visibly calms himself before speaking again. “It was,” he trails off briefly before continuing, “A mistake.”

Takumi’s eyebrows must be up in his hairline. Leo frowns. He clearly doesn’t want to be speaking to him, and Takumi is a bit confused as to why he _is._ “I don’t care,” he bites out, and returns to his task of birdwatching. The supervisor might scoff a “boys!” at them, but he _doesn’t care_. He can’t believe the _prick_ thinks he can just tell him some weak words coated in fake sentiments and expect -- what, exactly? What was he trying to pull? Probably just trying to pass the blame off onto Takumi, that’s what. 

So the rest of the hour passes in silence after that, blissful, if tense.

Ryoma’s at the table when he gets home. Takumi skips dinner.

* * *

Ryoma’s busy, always busy, and really, Takumi, can’t you just take your sister to her appointment? It’s not like you’re doing anything anyway. Do something for the family, for once.

As far as Takumi is concerned, the last bit is as much unspoken as it is implicit. So what if Ryoma is some executive big shot? So what if Hinoka is on track to go into the medical field and spends all her time studying? Sure, Takumi respects it, but Ryoma acts like he’s an ambitionless failure. (And if he thinks the same? It certainly isn’t anyone else’s place to remind him.)

Besides, he’s closest to his little sister. It’s not like getting Takumi to drive her to her orthodontist appointment is some great hardship to convince him of.

Sakura sure hates it, though. She’s been a nervous mess recently, and it’s compounded by all this braces business. As far as Takumi’s concerned, they should just pull a tooth or two and let Sakura free, but the mere mention of this has her voice trembling and her knees knocking. With middle school eating away at her already nervous disposition, there’s not much in her life that’s doing much good for her right now, and, as usual, Takumi feels helpless.

There’s not much in _any_ of their lives that’s doing them much good, recently, but it’s easier to kick these thoughts to the curb during the daytime.

Sakura trails three or four paces behind him. Takumi rolls his eyes, steels himself, and sticks his hand out in front of her. He hazards a glance, embarrassed, and sees her eyes wide as saucers as she lightly grips it. It might be childish, a callback to their elementary school days, but Sakura always seems to find strength in the action, and she’s always understood him best.

Her grip isn’t firm -- it’s overwhelmingly weak, actually, and this is why Takumi can’t find it in him to drop her hand when they walk into the reception area. So of course, once he’s signed her in and turned around, he makes direct eye contact with the worst person in the universe.

His bruises throb. He doesn’t have more than a second to think about how embarrassing his situation is before his little sister is bowled over by a lot of blonde.

“Sakura! It’s you!” A sweet-voiced, giggling girl has Sakura enveloped in a bear hug, who lightly rests her hands on her assailant’s back in turn. Sakura looks delighted, face red but joy obvious. It’s not a look Takumi’s seen for a long while.

“E-Elise! H-Hi!” The girl in question releases Sakura long enough to look her in the eye for a second, and then Elise is bouncing on her heels.

“This is so crazy! I know we both have braces and stuff but it’s so cool to see you! What are the chances?” Her smile is blinding, but her hair is Leo’s, and it’s very, very hard to reconcile these two facts.

Sakura turns to him shyly. “Um, this is Elise. W-we know each other from music camp.” It does sound familiar, something she had done however many years ago, back when their lives were more put-together. 

He nods, smiling as best he can through the full-body cringing that comes from Leo being in the general vicinity. “Good to meet you.” 

Her mouth is open in an almost-comical O shape. “Oh! You must be Takumi! Sakura mentioned you.” She smiles as Sakura flusters. “So hey! What’s been going on lately? Oh!” She jolts in place, blue chiffon dress swaying lightly. “Your brother’s here! So’s mine! Leo, come meet Sakura!” She gestures rapidly for Leo to come up to them, to which he stares blankly. Elise rolls her eyes and drags Sakura over by the wrist. 

Highly uncomfortable but more uncomfortable standing by himself in an orthodontics waiting room, Takumi drags his feet against the tide and comes up behind them, in as controlled a motion as he can make it. The nagging twist of irritation snags his breath, and he has to fight the sneer threatening to stretch the edges of his mouth. He doesn’t want to be unpleasant in front of Sakura’s friend, but at the same time, he won’t hesitate to rip Leo a new one if he has to.

“This is Leo! He’s a huge sourpuss, I apologize on his behalf.” Elise does an exaggerated, theatrical bow. 

Leo’s not even looking at Takumi. He feels nails digging red crescents into his palms as his heartbeat turns rotten in his chest. 

Leo’s shooting a glowing smile at Sakura. “It’s nice to meet you. As I recall, you played the koto?”

Takumi squints as Sakura startles. “Y-yes!”

He focuses on the now-yellow discoloration on his cheek to stabilize himself against the smugness that seems to ooze out of Leo, leaking wholly into his words. “If I remember correctly, you were learning a duet.” It’s not said with any room for doubt; it’s not a question of whether he remembers correctly. “Elise was quite excited about that. She would practise her part every night, for hours at a time.”

Takumi doesn’t catch Elise’s response. He’s too keenly aware of condescending eyes angled away from him, and grinds his teeth.

“It’s nice to finally see the face behind the tall tales.” Takumi could punch the smile right off his face, right now. How dare he act _civil_ to his sister? Well -- the alternative would be very bad, and Takumi supposes this is what he would hope for -- but still, his pleasantness sits twisted and gnarled in his stomach.

“O-oh,” his sister mumbles, red-faced and looking to her brother for help, but all he can do is exchange a look of bewilderment with her (for two vastly different reasons).

“Well, Sakura’s the best! It was all true!” Elise hugs her again, and then she does a double take, glancing between Takumi and her brother. Switching gears at lightning speed, she tilts her head. “Oh my gosh!” She looks delighted, and something in him sinks in dread. “You guys, like, both have bruises! Right here!” She taps the side of her face with small, dainty fingers, and Takumi holds his breath. Sakura’s concealer apparently hadn’t done its job. “Leo wouldn’t tell me how he got his ‘cause he sucks, but why are you all beat up?” 

The sheer insensitivity of the comment is lost in the earnestness of the inquisitive look she’s giving him. Maybe that’s why he barks out, “He punched me.”

A beat passes. He doesn’t have to look to know that Sakura’s eyes are wide. Elise’s smile is frozen on her face. 

A breath that can only be described as a _chuckle_ snaps everyone’s attention towards Leo. “I wasn’t the one who threw the first punch.”

And, oh, _now_ he’s looking at him. For the first time since the incident, he feels piercing eyes on him, and he meets the frozen gaze with an intensity of his own. Leo’s sharp nose is tilted up on one side from a closed-mouth sneer that Takumi quickly matches. 

The bastard has a way of looking right into him, and it pisses him off beyond words -- partially because of the sheer entitlement of it (how _dare_ he analyze him, how _dare_ he see things about him that he would never share voluntarily), and partially out of anger towards himself for being so transparent. (It always comes back around to himself.)

Elise seems to recover her bearings. “Oh my gosh! Leo!” She rounds on him with a furious pout, hands curled into fists. “I thought you ran into a table or something! Not that you started a fight!” He opens his mouth to protest, or maybe point out the unlikeliness of a face bruise from a table, but she lifts a finger. “No! Shush! I know you, big brother. I know it was your fault.” She scrunches up her nose.

“Elise,” and wow his voice is dripping condescension, “you don’t know the situation. I would recommend against sticking your nose into this.”

She growls. “Leo! Stop treating me like a little kid! You were in a _fight!"_ There’s genuine anger in her posture now, and Takumi has never felt so awkward in his life. She whirls around, hair twisting with her, and faces Takumi. He’s steeling himself for the wrath of a family member when her mouth catches in a downturn of worry. “I’m so sorry about him! I hope he didn’t get you too badly!”

He has no idea how to react. Leo inspects his nails. Sakura wrings her hands in her sleeves.

Elise is a godsend (if she can be called one for creating the damn situation in the first place), leaning into the silence and filling it without a second wasted. “Leo! You’re gonna look at me, and you’re gonna listen to me. You,” she stabs a finger out, poking him in the chest and eliciting an _ow_ , “are going to make friends, with them.” Takumi stares down the length of her finger with a snort on his tongue, but holds it back out of respect for the innocence he’s witnessing.

Before anyone can protest, she gets called into her appointment. She dashes off with a wave and a semi-serious command for her brother -- “ _don’t punch anyone!_ ” 

Without their catalyst of conversation, the silence that follows is numbingly awkward. Sakura looks like she might not be breathing, and Takumi stares daggers into the side of Leo’s ashen, pale, discoloured face. He wonders if he gets any sun whatsoever.

“Hey, Sakura.” Her head whips towards him, but he keeps his gaze firmly locked on Leo’s pointedly averted one. “Why don’t you grab a magazine, or something?” There’s no movement. “To read.”

With a little squeak, she scurries off to the end table in the corner, and Takumi is left wondering why exactly he sent away his only source of support.

A movement like an eyeroll precedes eye contact, as blasé and prickly as ever. “Let’s get one thing straight. I may acknowledge that it was a mistake to… provoke you, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.” He speaks deliberately, but slowly as if he’s addressing a child, and Takumi bristles, temper coursing through him and swelling in his veins.

“Like I’d ever want to be friends with _you._ ” He huffs, almost offended at the suggestion.

“Good.” And just like that, Leo’s looking down towards a magazine in his lap, and the steady stream of anger turns into something like cold rage.

“Listen,” Takumi spits out, “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’d better knock it off before I get the chance to do much worse.” They both know he’s talking about the bruises.

A little smile curls at the bastard’s lips, and it almost sounds like a wind’s tempest ringing in Takumi’s ears. He looks up from his magazine. “Like what?”

The movement exposes his neck, and Takumi’s fingers itch to close around it. It would be so easy --

The thought chills him, and knows he needs to get away from Leo immediately. He powerwalks away from his unimpressed gaze and over to Sakura, dropping into the seat next to her.

“B-Brother I’m so sorry- I should’ve done better and I--”

“What?” He cuts her a glance. “What are you talking about?”

“I-I d-didn’t do any good with your m-makeup,” she murmurs plaintively, voice wobbling. “I-if I had just done better, I-”

Tears are flooding her eyes, and he realizes his voice had come out much more curt than ideal. “No, no, Sakura, it’s okay. Really.” She looks more miserable at this, and Takumi sure feels like brother of the year. “W-what I mean to say is that it’s my problem, not yours. Okay?” He smiles at her, as best he can.

Silence is his only answer for a long while, as Sakura composes herself. 

She’s called in for her appointment, but she doesn’t move right away. Takumi turns to her inquisitively, about to quirk an eyebrow, when she speaks -- in almost a whisper, but in a surer tone than he’s used to from her.

“I w-wish you would talk to me.”

She’s up and out of the waiting room, and Takumi’s left feeling numb as he ponders the statement.

* * *

Philosophy class gets substantially better. He can’t say if it’s because of some misguided feeling of guilt, or what, but Leo doesn’t prod at him with his words anymore. He’s gone from consistent rebuttal of Takumi’s points to giving him the silent treatment, and he’s never been so glad about being disregarded in his life. 

It’s only for this reason that he thinks twice about the sniffles. 

Stopped at the door to the bathroom, hands covered in dried paint, Takumi hesitates. Someone’s clearly not doing so great, if the muffled sobs are any indication, but before he can feel like too much of a dick about eavesdropping, a low voice spits out a soft “ _Gods._ ”

Takumi winces. It sounded a lot like Leo, but it was spoken in a harsh low tone that, in Takumi’s case, is usually reserved for self-criticism. That’s kinda funny -- Leo, self-critical about something. It’s a novel thought. 

He’s not convinced it _is_ him, and is about to trek towards a different bathroom to give the guy some privacy, but a bang and some muffled murmurs seize his step in place. It definitely sounds like Leo.

It’s really more than he needs to know about the bastard, honestly. Despite the traitorous little prick of concern that wiggles against his chest for a moment, he still hates Leo more than anything. Takumi’s got an equal stake on the bathroom, and he’s going to use it -- he doesn’t care if the asshole’s having a little cry.

He waltzes into the sterile stall-lined room with something like defiance in his step. It fades almost instantly. Maybe it’s the voice of his mother, the scent of tea leaves and marigolds shaming him for his callousness.

Nevertheless, once the door’s swung shut behind him, there’s a total absence of noise. After a beat, Takumi realizes just how invasive he’s being, and dashes to the sink to scrub the paint out from under his nails. If nothing else, the running water gives some loud background noise. 

It’s silent as Takumi pulls and rips some paper towel to dry his hands. He gives himself a few moments to wonder if he’s lost his mind before he leans against the ledge by the window.

“Leo?”

And, wow, that’s awkward. It’s the worst idea in the world, even -- what was he thinking, walking in on a clear moment of weakness with the intention to... what? What _is_ he trying to do here? They hate each other’s guts, and Takumi feels a sharp twinge at the thought that Leo probably assumes this is Takumi’s way of one-upping him. It’s certainly what Takumi would assume if the situation was reversed.

Nonetheless, he stays put. He wasn’t raised _evil._ He might think Leo’s a mean-spirited dick, but he’s clearly in some sort of pain. What would that make Takumi if he abandoned him without a thought? 

The drawn-out stillness is punctuated by a sharp sniff, a cutting voice following up on its heels, clearly meant to draw attention away from the noise. “Just laugh if you want.” There’s an audible breath intake from the other side of the farthest stall. “Get it over with.”

“W-what?” Takumi’s a little bit taken aback, even though he knew the reaction wouldn’t be pretty. But why would he _laugh?_

A bark of twisted mirth echoes through the room and Takumi’s brows draw together. “Come on. Everyone knows we hate each other.” And yeah, it’s true, but there’s a bit of a sting in his chest. “Just get it over with. Have a good laugh and leave me be.”

Heat sings familiar in his veins. “Oh, come on. Stop being such a martyr.” If he winces at the tone of his speech, it’s not like Leo can see it anyway. Takumi wasn’t (isn’t?) the one in tears here, so he takes a breath and continues before a word can get in edgewise. “Are you okay?”

There’s a beat, and then the dryest tone Takumi thinks he’s ever heard. “Clearly.” He winces. “Why would I tell _you_ anything?” It’s a fair point; it’s not his place and they both know it. 

“I -- I dunno. I just… wanted to help. I guess.” Really, what _is_ he doing here? He should just leave. “ _Can_ I help?”

Leo’s next words follow up on a buried thread of guilt. “Why would you care?” He’s sounding more like his dickish self, so Takumi supposes there’s at least that. Still, the petulance of it twists his mouth and prods his temper.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I care? Would _you_ just walk out on someone crying alone in a bathroom at nine-A.M?”

There’s a pause _._ It’s probably bad tact to remind someone of the pathetic position they’re in, but Takumi’s doesn’t particularly care. “Yes, probably. I don’t make a habit of sticking my nose into other people’s business.” It’s biting enough that Takumi has to struggle down his instinctive reaction of _fight smarmy fucker with yelling._

It’s not wholly fair for Leo to react like that, Takumi thinks. He’s just extending an olive branch, maybe some kind of pacifistic gesture, _something_. “Come on. I get it okay? I know we’ve been at each other’s throats, but I’m not _that_ much of a dick.”

“Maybe you’re making things worse.” 

It’s said quietly, but with feeling. Stung but not surprised, Takumi supposes that’s his cue. “Far be it for me to go out of my way. Won’t do it again.” He pushes himself off of the wall and walks out of the bathroom.

Later, in biology, Leo walks in looking pristine, put-together as always, head held high and back rigidly straight. Takumi tracks him with his eyes; if he notices, he doesn’t react. There’s no trace of distress whatsoever, and Takumi’s left wondering if he made the entire thing up.

* * *

It’s a bad night. Each one has its own special way of getting into his skull, breaching his defenses and weaving into his most precious memories, pulling them out to overripen and decay in the tainted air.

He can hardly think about his mother anymore.

Throwing the blankets off and scrubbing his face with a hand, he darts a glance to the old digital clock on his bedside table. _4:23._

His eyes and limbs are unbearably heavy, but he knows that’s it for sleep. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, normally -- he’s an early bird, up and around by six to watch the sunrise from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room. Now, though, he’s going to bed later and later and sleeping until noon if he can. He’s wondered how far this could go, how much of the day he’ll eventually get used to sleeping away, and allows himself to be seized by the steel grip of self-loathing every time.

So he does what he always does and gets ready for the day. He stumbles across the room as quietly as he can, slowly and groggily throwing his clothes on and tying his hair into a low ponytail. He sneaks through the hallways, pads of his feet silent and slow, and staunchly refuses to notice the matte eyes of his family, complete and young, watching him from their frames on the wall. 

He slips his shoes on at the door and lets his feet carry him across the expansive lawn and through their grand wrought-iron gates. Sure, it’s probably dangerous to be out when it’s so dark, but he’ll be fine. He’s always been fine. And besides, he has martial arts training under his belt, and a handful of apathy about his own safety.

He doesn’t spare a glance back at the house ( _the_ _mansion, huge and empty and cold_ ) as he shoves his hands into his sweater pockets and meanders in the direction of the park. Being the inheritors of a long line of old money comes with benefits, obviously, but Takumi’s favourite has always been the gated park a block away -- he’s been slipping out post-nightmare for as long as he can remember.

His mother had followed him there once. She sat next to him on the dock, white wood shifting as she pulled him into her side. The crickets chirped their song as the leaves shook. They stayed there, unspeaking, watching the lily pads drift until sunrise.

Now, shoes beside him and ankles chilled from the autumn waters, the place carries an even quieter tone. It’s serene, bittersweet, an echo of tranquility he wishes he could reach anywhere else. The trees shift in the light nighttime breeze, the crickets sing, and the water ebbs slowly and without purpose. Just like it’s always done.

The pond’s in a corner of the enclosement, surrounded by deep green foliage. It’s always felt like an oasis, like Takumi’s own little space. He pulls his feet out of the water and braces his feet on the edge of the wood, hugging his legs and resting his head on his knees.

He spends some time like this, listening to the muffled sounds of dormant life. The air is crisp, carrying a wisp of moonlight that both soothes and aches. And just like he did when he was younger, he cries.

He cries for a broken family that’ll never recover. He cries for the bleakness that day brings. He cries for himself, for how he’ll never live up to anything his siblings expect of him, will never be anything his parents could be proud of, and will never be good enough for _himself_ to live with. 

A twig cracks. Takumi whips his head up, scanning the bushes. His heart just about stops when he spies something light amidst the shadows, leading to a recognition of a form across the pond and back in the trees. Mortification creeps up his spine in a slow trickle.

They’ve clearly seen him, since their silhouette is facing him, unmoving. Takumi knows his cheeks are blotching ugly red, and he can only hope the cover of darkness is enough to preserve his dignity. He frantically scrubs his face with his sleeves, and when he looks up, they’re gone.

He can feel shame eating at his insides, squeezing himself into even tighter a ball. The only person who was ever supposed to see him like this was his mom, and now some stranger has been exposed to his pathetic, childish self. 

He laughs into his knees, all bitterness, as the sun rises.

* * *

It’s really _awful_ how bad Leo is in phys ed.

It’s also supremely cathartic to nail him with a dodgeball over and over, watching the panic-and-sneer each time it happens. Takumi high-fives Hinata for the fourth time, cackling, as Leo shoots him a yet-escalating deathglare from the benches. 

Takumi soaks it up, letting it feed his satisfied grin as he ducks under a whipping ball. The movement makes errant strands of hair flop into his face, high ponytail unable to contain it all in the face of aggressive movement. He frantically pushes it out of his mouth and eyes, and gets beaned before he can see anything.

The boys laugh at him as he huffs and dashes off the warzone of a court. He spies Leo sitting by himself on a far bench. Takumi’s high is maybe _too_ high, and so he strolls right over and plops down right next to him.

He watches dodgeball happen for a while. He can feel the beanpole’s eyes on him, and he lets his smile stretch, pointedly ignoring him and not acknowledging the situation. He wants Leo to have to break the silence.

He’s mildly disappointed when Leo just gets up and walks out of the gym. _I guess I won_ , he thinks, not a little triumphantly. He lets himself get absorbed into the game, cheering Hinata on and hoping he gets to join back in soon, when a weight dips the bench beside him.

Leo wipes his mouth -- just went to the water fountain, then. At the eye contact, he is given a deadpan stare. 

“Any reason you enjoy humiliating me in front of the class?” The tone is so flat. _Please,_ Takumi thinks, _as if you didn’t enjoy humiliating me in philosophy for months_. 

“It’s just so easy,” he replies, putting as much earnestness into his face as Leo rolls his eyes. The action pumps even more victory adrenaline into his veins.

Someone from his team yells Takumi’s name, and he jumps up from the bench. He gives Leo a grinning salute as he runs back on and that’s the end of that.

At least, until a few days later when badminton becomes the focus.

Takumi likes to pride himself on his accuracy -- he’s always been good at darts, games involving a ball, and especially archery, which he likes to practise at home when he can. Badminton is no exception; he’d drilled competency into himself, and he’d been proud to think he was the best in his class. 

He finds that title in serious danger as he dives for a tap close to the net and can’t pop it up in time. Hinata hoots from the sidelines, where they’ve attracted a modest crowd, and he shoots a glare at his friend. Getting up, he focuses back on Leo, who has a contemptuous, holier-than-thou expression plastered on. He’s winning. Takumi can’t even say anything about it.

Adrenaline mixed with anger is a winning combo, though, because Takumi’s been holding his own against a player that he has to admit is better than him. He refuses to settle for only that -- Takumi _will_ win. 

Or he’d like to think so, but he can acknowledge that he’s on a downward spiral. The desperation is starting to throw off his game, turning his movements into tight, jerking things. His opponent seems to realize this, judging by the smarmy levels he’s exuding.

He twirls his racket daintily, then grips it. It’s a taunt. It also signals the end of the game, as per the bell ringing.

As the mad rush into the changing room begins, Takumi sighs. Leo technically won, then.

Takumi walks up to one of the posts of the net, beginning to disassemble it. “Good game,” he sighs, disappointed but determined not to be a bad sport.

He’s met with a pause long enough that he glances up. Leo’s standing in the same spot, fixing him with a look Takumi can’t read. He nods, once, and Takumi grimace-smiles and goes back to the net.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if Leo ditched him and the net for the changeroom, honestly, but he heads to the opposing post. They work quickly, lugging the poles to the storage closet behind some other volunteers as the majority of the class storms out with a blaze of noise towards their next period.

Bending to set down the materials, Takumi yanks on a strand of hair that had found itself trapped between his hand and the metal pole. “Ow,” he gasps.

“Doesn’t that get annoying?”

Takumi peers over, baffled, towards an uncomfortable-looking Leo, who looks even more uncomfortable the longer Takumi doesn’t respond.

_Oh, right._ “Uh, sorta?” He stands, too, combing the long ponytail with a hand and deciding to just let it down, since he’s gonna have to change anyway and there’d be no point in fixing it beforehand. “You get used to it.”

Leo averts his eyes. He hums his assent, and then mosies it out of the room. Takumi stares after him.

They develop kind of a rapport in phys ed. It’s not friendly, and it’s certainly antagonistic, but it lacks the venom Takumi would usually associate with that blond head of hair upon sight. It’s weird, and his friends definitely notice.

“So, dude,” Hinata begins, and Takumi knows to be apprehensive whenever he says that, “Are you and Leo, like… Friends?”

Takumi stops walking, dropping his hands from his backpack straps, and his best friends halt after a few paces, looking back inquisitively. Oboro seems significantly more confused than Hinata, understandably.

“What?” She says, looking back at Hinata. He shrugs.

“They play against each other every gym class now. He’s even ditched me before.” Hinata faux-sniffles and rubs his hand against his imaginary tears. Takumi has a feeling Oboro would’ve rolled her eyes had _this_ not been the situation.

“Wait, really?” The incredulous look is turned on him, and he can feel his lip curling into an approximation of the sheer _disdain_ he feels at the thought of being _Leo’s friend._

“No,” he says decisively. “No way.”

Hinata looks at him skeptically, and Oboro just keeps looking at him like he’s crazy.

“No way,” he repeats, continuing to walk. His friends catch up after a few paces. “He’s just good at badminton and tennis. I want to beat him.”

He’s not sure who snorts in response, so he casts them both a dubious frown. 

“Dude,” Hinata repeats, and Takumi seals his eyes shut. Absently, he hopes he doesn’t trip over any pebbles. “You ditched _me_ to play with him. I don’t know if I should be offended.”

Takumi grits his teeth. “I didn’t ditch you, alright!” He glares heatlessly. “You were partnering up with Kaden. Remember?” 

“Ohh.” Hinata puts a finger to his chin. “He’s fun.”

Oboro snickers.

“Anyway,” Takumi continues, “I hate him.”

“Yeah, but do you still want to punch him out every time you see him?” Oboro seems genuinely curious, and it pains Takumi to admit that he doesn’t, even to himself.

He’s saved the task of saying so because Hinata interjects. “That would be such a great origin story, though.” He sighs dreamily. “We met when I punched his daylights out, and got my daylights punched out as well.”

“Hey!” Takumi can’t help the amused twinge at Hinata’s antics. “We met before that.”

“Yeah, but, like, that was the first time you talked.” At Takumi beginning to retort, he quickly adds, “Okay, I know you _technically_ talked before, on account of him being a psychology douche.” No one has the heart to correct him. “But _talked_ talked. You know.”

He’s not sure if he wants to be obstinate and grill Hinata over it, but he’s spared the choice as they reach the fork in the road Takumi splits off at. He waves them a quick goodbye, promising to text later, and starts heading home.

_Friends_ , he thinks. _Hah._

* * *

Ryoma accompanies him to the archery range, and there’s nothing Takumi wants less.

It’s some kind of twisted replica of how they used to be, of the brother Ryoma was before they lost their dad, before he stopped being a brother and became more like a father. His presence makes Takumi supremely uncomfortable, and he nocks his arrows as fast as he can to take the edge off of the stress.

He wishes Ryoma shooting next to him wasn’t making him feel like shit, too.

Takumi’s better than him, but it only serves as a reminder that this is the _only_ thing Takumi’s better at. Ryoma’s beaten him in every other discernible way -- better grades (honour roll four years in a row), a promising future (took up their parents’ positions in the business), more friends (many more). Charisma. Likeability. Reputation.

Everything, really. It’s why he even started practicing archery in the first place: for it to be something only _he_ did well, something only he put as much effort into. It was rewarding, of course it was, but it’s been feeling sour lately instead.

He also knows there’s an ulterior motive to his brother’s wasting time -- no matter what he would say, he’s a busy man and he _is_ wasting his time. It makes Takumi nervous, throws his aim off. He’s only barely more accurate than Ryoma.

He lowers his bow, and thank the Gods, Ryoma understands the cue. He shoots his last arrow and turns towards Takumi.

“Brother, how are you, lately?”

It’s such an unexpected response that he has to blink for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I’m fine.”

Ryoma gives him a stern look, and Takumi can feel the disappointment emanating off him. “I mean, how are you _really_ doing?”

He turns towards his bow, fidgets with the string. “I’m fine.”

His brother sighs. “Takumi, I think we all know none of us are fine.” An earnest look is sent his way, and Takumi has to use all the force of his will to prevent his lip from wobbling. “You’ve been so… distant, lately.” 

And that’s just not fair. Their family is going through so much; he’s not going to burden anyone with his stupid problems he’s too weak to sort out himself. Ryoma doesn’t _really_ want the hassle. This is all for appearances. 

“Not to mention the detentions.”

Shame cuts deep, and he’s raw; he’s raw and burnt and fire courses over the scar. He just -- he doesn’t know how to reign himself back, doesn’t realize he’s lashed out verbally before it happens, and more often than not, it ends up happening against a teacher who can punish him. (When it happens to those who _can’t_ punish him, it’s a much worse feeling.) Takumi just -- can’t stop himself, it just gets the better of him and he can’t help it. It’s _not his fault_. 

“It’s none of your business,” he snaps, steeped in poison. A level stare, understanding, is cast his way, and _Gods_ he hates it, he hates it and he wants it gone. “I don’t need your pity,” he spits, whirling around to put his bow on the rack and fleeing into the house. Ryoma lets him go.

He texts Hinata, asks if he can come over, but he’s out. He can’t ask Oboro; there’s always pity in her eyes and she never knows what to say and he can’t handle it right now. So he does the only thing he can think of and makes a beeline to the garden.

It has a very different atmosphere during the day. It’s not _his,_ so much, while the sun’s up -- there are a few little old ladies talking on a bench, dogs meandering around their feet. There’s a man holding an infant and pointing excitedly at the hanging vines overhead. Joyous laughs can be heard from the chess board, where shadows lay heavy on the two players. It’s not silent, and it’s not calm, but it has a certain other charm. Takumi can forget about his problems, just like this; he can clear his mind, surrounded by the positive ambiance of other people, by normalcy, by the simpler moments. 

He sits on a bench overlooking the pond. It doesn’t look too different in the sun, altogether. The trees canopy, leaving dappled spots of light wavering and moving along the water’s surface. It’s still and dark, looking deeper than it really is, and the lily pads are idle as ever. Yet, the flowers some distance behind the pond are open, craned towards the sky, blooming colour.

A shadow, devoid of colour, moves behind them. He watches as someone in black walks past, mostly obscured by the circle of trees. There’s a serenity to the knowledge that someone is nearby, contrasting with what he knows should be a spark of anxiety. As it is, he’s a bit too tired for anxiety, so he just watches the form pass.

He sits, idly watching the trees sway. The person a ways away keeps walking around, and it doesn’t bother Takumi like he knows it should. He tracks them with his eyes until they leave and the sky turns orange.

Sakura watches him as he enters the house, looking sad, or maybe disappointed. That’s alright. Just another mark to the tally.

* * *

A mood sticks with him for a few days, inciting his friends’ concern. He’s tired of making them worry, still riddled with guilt over how he’s treated them when he’s been like this, and tries to put on an act of normalcy, but they see right through him. They know him, though, and know to give him space. He’s grateful but he can’t say he’s not lonely -- he needs distance for their sake, can’t risk talking much in case he lashes out, but he craves company.

So he throws himself into phys ed for a few days, aggressive and not taking any bait Leo throws out. Verbal sparring is too risky, so he says nothing. Leo stops prompting him, and he has to struggle with himself, insist that he hasn’t ruined something. ( _We’re not friends,_ he reminds himself, _there’s nothing to ruin.)_

He’s coming off an adrenaline high when Leo corners him in the equipment room. Takumi stares at him and he stares back, blinking slowly. He reminds Takumi of a cat.

He hears the distant closing of a door, and the gym is eerily silent. Leo leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “So, what’s wrong with _you,_ ” he says, raising an eyebrow in a perfect arch. Takumi bristles.

“Get out of the way,” he demands, but it achieves nothing. The eyebrow stays up.

“I think it’s reasonable for me to wonder, seeing as how you spiked the tennis ball at me almost every time you could. My wrist isn’t as strong as you think, Takumi.” His voice is dry, and Takumi suppresses a gulp. Neither of them have ever used one another’s names in each other’s presence, always defaulting to insults or sneers. It feels odd.

Takumi averts his gaze. Despite himself, despite his self-proclaimed hatred of Leo, he does feel an ebb of guilt. He had been using Leo to vent against his knowledge, and now he’s _hurt_ him. He reigned his words in, but he hurt him anyway.

He always hurts everyone, eventually; Hinata’s kicked-puppy eyes, Oboro’s indignant tears, Hinoka’s disgust. Sakura, saying _I wish you would talk to me._

He can’t stop himself from squeezing his eyes shut, ducking his head as shame burns through him. His fists hurt from clenching, and his voice is weak when he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he half-whispers, spat with a venom attributed entirely to himself.

The silence stretches past the point of response, and Takumi has to rub at his eyes before the tears start falling. _Great,_ he thinks, disgusted, _now I’ve both been overdramatic_ and _I’ve given someone who hates me all the ammunition to make my life hell._

But nothing happens. Nothing is said at all, so when he finally composes himself enough, he looks up. Leo just stares, an appraising look in his eyes.

What strikes him is that there’s no pity.

After an eternity, Leo speaks, still leaning against the wall loosely. 

“Do you play chess?”

It’s so out of left field that Takumi is stunned into silence. He stares, and his gaze is consistently met with an unreadable one in turn.

“Y-yeah?”

Leo nods, pushing off the wall and uncrossing his arms.

“Come to the library at lunch tomorrow.”

And he’s gone. The bell rings, but Takumi doesn’t move.

* * *

He’s admittedly very apprehensive when he shuffles into the cramped, musty library. The tables are almost all occupied, students either sitting around and chatting or scrambling to complete homework. It’s small and filled with sweaty teenagers, but it’s comfortable inside and out to Takumi. He wanders down the aisles aimlessly, resisting the urge to run his fingers along the spines of the books.

That’s when he spots familiar blond at the farthest, most secluded table. He sits with his back against the wall, using his phone in front of a readied chess set. Somehow, even though this had been the implication all along, Takumi feels surprised.

Leo’s lost in his phone, so Takumi slowly approaches and dumps his bag on the ground. Sliding into the plastic chair, he’s met with an entirely inattentive Leo. Maybe he _had_ noticed him approach, for all Takumi can tell, seeing as how he’s still ignoring him entirely for his phone conversation.

Just as he’s working up the nerve to feel bitter about that, the phone is slipped away and brown eyes meet his. “So,” he begins, not seeing fit to begin with a greeting, apparently, “Are you going to begin?”

With a start, Takumi notices his pieces are white. He glares at Leo. “I didn’t even know if you knew I was here.”

Leo makes a dismissive motion with his hand, a _get along with it, then,_ and Takumi rolls his eyes. Playing chess against this piece of work is setting up to be an ordeal.

And right he is, but for all the wrong reasons. His opponent is smart, cuttingly so, and seems to predict Takumi eons in advance. By the time lunch ends, Leo had taken a rook, both bishops, and many pawns. 

Only Leo has ever been able to make Takumi this exhausted and furious simultaneously.

But, despite the state of confusion he finds himself in over the progression of their game, and the _Leo_ mood he’s now in, he finds himself… challenged, and eager. Not in a competition-fueled fire as usual, but in a calmer, steadier flame that licks at his thoughts. 

Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, he thinks for a moment before speaking. “Y’know, I’ve never really played chess against anyone as good as you.”

It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it as it came out of his mouth. Leo smiles, all confidence and victory. “Few have,” he says, not entirely without humour, and Takumi huffs in response.

“Y’know, I… Do you wanna pick up on this tomorrow?”

Leo’s looking at him now, that same inscrutable stare he can’t make heads or tails of. All of a sudden, he nods and smiles -- a little lopsided thing. “I would enjoy that.” 

He scratches at his nails while Takumi fumbles his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of the board before they have to knock the pieces down and squirrel it away. The whole while, he wears a lopsided smile of his own.

After all, Takumi had taken Leo’s knight, bishop, and rook.

* * *

It becomes a ritual. They play chess at lunch three times that week, before Takumi has to awkwardly explain that he’s been avoiding his friends. Leo nods and they agree on a twice-a-week meetup.

But their correspondence doesn’t really stop there. Now, when Takumi sees Leo in the halls, he’ll wave -- shyly at first, but big grand embarrassing waves later -- and sometimes, he’ll get a nod back, or if he’s lucky, Leo will duck his face and run before anyone can identify him as the wave-ee. They’ve definitely gone from rivals to something else, though Takumi is loath to call them friends, as per his earlier sentiments.

_I didn’t know him back then, though. What’s so bad about being friends?_ he thinks, picking at his lunch with one prong of his fork. 

A hand waves in front of his face and he jolts backwards. Hinata looms over him. “Hello! Earth to Takumi!” Said guy glares at Hinata indignantly, who smiles sweetly. “What do _you_ think?” 

At his blank look, Oboro adds, “We’re talking about aliens. It’s really not important.” She leans forward, and Takumi notices neither of his friends have any food in front of them anymore. “Are you okay, though?”

Her concern is stifling, and Hinata’s pressuring. They eat at him for a brief, torturous second until he shakes his head, giving them a genuine smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

That seems to be enough for them, and they go back to discussing whatever they were discussing. Takumi resumes his food poking.

He and Leo don’t talk much while they play, and he doesn’t respond very engagingly if Takumi tries. He seems too concentrated on the game to chat, and while Takumi gets it and can appreciate it, it’s starting to nag at him just how little he knows about his chess rival.

He decides to give it another, more direct shot.

“So,” he says, hopping his knight over the taller pieces. “What else do you do?”

Leo lifts an eyebrow over his clasped knuckles. 

“Like, hobbies.” Takumi’s made to feel more uncomfortable than he thinks he should be asking this question.

His acquaintance? chess partner? friend? stays quiet for a bit, surveying the board. “I read.” Takumi waits a few beats, ready to indignantly press him, when he speaks up again. “I play other tactics-based games as well.” He looks up, a few strands of hair moving with his eyelashes as he blinks. “You?”

They’re scraps, but Takumi can work with it. He can’t lie about being curious, anyway. “What do you read? Fiction, or?”

Leo’s eyes flick down to the table as he slides his remaining bishop. “Moreso intellectual texts. I’m big on philosophy, and war tactics.”

Takumi’s snapped out of his distant consideration of his next move. “What? Really?”

“I fail to see why I’d lie.”

He puffs out his chest. “Yeah, well, I’m just surprised, ‘cause me too.”

The keen interest that sparks through brown eyes isn’t something he’s seen before. “Who’s your favourite philosopher?”

“Well, ontology is pretty interesting, so I’ve read a lot of Descartes. I like Camus’ stuff, too.” He tilts his head a little, unwilling to let the thread of excitement end just there. “And you’re seriously into war tactics?”

A short nod is his response. “Ancient warfare. I appreciate the classics. Sun Tzu and the like.” Takumi stares at him.

“And what kind of games were you talking about?”

“Well… Video games. High-stakes quick-thinking ones, like Dark Souls.”

That description is so pretentious, but he can’t even pay attention to it. “Dark Souls.” He’s pretty sure he’s got a really stupid look on his face, but that’s okay, because Leo kinda almost mirrors it.

Leo blinks. His hair’s still resting on his eyelashes. “You play.”

Takumi nods slowly.

They end up ditching class to shittalk Freud, and a certain unfamiliar gleam fizzes in Takumi’s eyes and in his core, fireworking pure excitement. It warms him to the tips of his fingers, just like Leo’s eager smile.

* * *

The bell rings, signalling the end of lunch, and Takumi’s jovial mood starts its descent into the floor. He’s been finding it harder to concentrate on his studies than ever, and lunch is a little pocket of comfort he can always look forward to, whether it's spent with his best friends or in quiet games in the library. Now that it's over, he finds himself stretching with little energy to spare, drained at the mere thought of class.

“Say,” Leo intonates, eyeing him idly, “What’s your worst subject?”

They have a mini staring contest, a silent conversation that goes something like ‘ _I don't want to say.’ ‘I know, tell me anyway.’_

He sighs, resigned. “Chemistry,” he mutters, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Leo hums, shoulder bag already slung across his torso.

“I'm not surprised.” At Takumi’s immediate bristle, Leo peers at him and tries to rationalize his words. “I just mean that you’re best at the humanities.” And Takumi feels a halted glow at what could be interpreted as a compliment, but that ultimately probably wasn't intended as such. “I wouldn't say I'm the greatest either, but I’m passable. If you'd like, I could run over some things tomorrow at lunch.”

The immediate hackle-raising is almost painful in its whiplash. “What, so you think I can't handle it myself?”

And the open-eyed, devil-may-care Leo he meets twice a week shuts down. “Don't insult me. I'm extending a hand in a situation where it’s clearly needed.”

“I don't need your help,” Takumi mumbles, stung by the implication that he’s not good enough.

“Fine then. Good luck with the test on Thursday.” Just like that, he gets up and strides down the aisle, smooth and unaffected as ever.

As much as Takumi would rather stew in his own self-pity, a desperate twinge pokes him hard enough to make him choke out a “Wait.”

Leo slows for a beat before stopping, turning his head slightly to the side to indicate his attention. Takumi rushes to catch up, scrambling upright and over to his side.

“Leo.” Leo sends him a look that's three parts aloof one part disdainful. Takumi sighs, swallowing his pride as best he’s able. “Sorry. I do need your help.”

Leo evaluates him for a solid while, and Takumi tries his best not to break out into a cold sweat. Something in his eyes softens, an echo of their previous warmth that saw Takumi shining. “Is here at the beginning of lunch good for tomorrow?”

He starts walking down the hallway, but not quickly, and Takumi takes the hint and trots beside him. “Y-yeah.” He tugs at his sleeve, picks off some dust. “Um, so, are you ready for the test?”

Honestly, Takumi hadn't known they were in the same class, but you learn something new every day. “More or less. Going over some of the material with you will be a helpful review for me, as well.” Something in Takumi is appeased at this, but he doesn't miss how tactical the remark is.

They weave wordlessly through the noisy crowd of students, and Takumi bides his time uncertainly. Once there’s a relative opening to speak, Takumi tilts his head, not allowing the embarrassment to overtake him. “Why are you being nice to me,” he asks, more like a statement than a question. Anxiety flashes straight into his core once the words fill the air.

Leo peers at him for a brisk moment before pulling him a few meters into a quiet stairwell. He stares him down, and the anxiety turns into apprehension in his stomach.

“Takumi, like I said, we’re more alike than you think.” There's a beat where Takumi blinks. “You've got to stop this whole self-pity thing.”

Deep shame twines with the anger, and Takumi prevents himself from snapping only at the thought of losing Leo, too. He looks at his shoes, scowling, unwilling to concede the point.

Leo sighs. “I _get_ you, Takumi.” He pauses, seems to struggle with his words before continuing. “Even as early as our fighting. In fact, I think I was as harsh as I was partially because of it.”

Cold anger floods his veins. “You don't know _anything_.”

“And when have you stopped to wonder about _me?_ ” His voice is frustrated, almost desperate in a way that shocks Takumi. “You don't know anything about me, but I know some things about you. And from the facts I have, I made a conclusion.”

Takumi looks up, and is taken aback by the expression levelled at him. It’s a cracked cold front, threaded with frustration and hurt and something like vulnerability. It’s familiar in tone. He doesn't know how to reply.

Something about Takumi’s expression must be off-putting, because Leo closes off. Takumi can sense an immediate flightiness he knows puts everything at risk. “I apologize. I feel as if I've crossed a line, or perhaps misread things.” _Misread you._

And as much as Takumi hates being vulnerable, despises it with all that he is, he finds both a thrill and calm in hastily admitting “No.” He gulps, steadying himself, before continuing. “You’re right. I don't really know the situation.” Leo’s expression is inscrutable. "I'm sorry," he manages, the words flying out of him as fast as he can make them.

The atmosphere is solid, pressing down hard but with a cloying downy softness. Takumi shifts. “I mean, I kinda just thought you were a dick.”

Leo cracks a smile, and things are slightly less stifling. “Oh, believe me, I thought you were a dick too.” His expression straightens up just as he does. “Anyway, I hope this was enough to quell any misgivings. You should stop doubting yourself, Takumi.” The criticism clashes with the nice sentiments of the situation, and Takumi grimaces sideways.

He feels destabilized, and he hates it.

* * *

If there’s one thing that Takumi’s never going to get used to, it’s Niles.

He hangs around Leo like a shadow, and Takumi’s caught him in his peripheral vision more than a few times. Leo just shrugs and says _he’s like that,_ but honestly, that’s not enough.

“Doesn’t it creep you out? Like, at all?” They’ve abandoned their chess game to dig for a book, a historical text that came up in conversation that Leo is _entirely_ wrong about.

Leo incorrectly thinks he’s right, so he’s searching with equal fervor. “You get used to it.” There’s a bit of a pause between them, a comfortable thing not needing to immediately be charged with conversation. “His reasons for it are his own.”

Takumi turns his head, looking up. He’s crouched, looking among the lower shelves, while Leo stands tall beside him. Leo’s gaze is fixed steadily on the spine of a book.

He turns his attention back to the shelves. He has some doubts about the availability of any good books at their school library, much less the more controversial ones. Still, their argument means that neither of them can stop checking, just in case.

Reaching out to check the title of a text, Takumi hums. “I don’t really get it, but whatever floats your boat.”

He can feel eyes on him, but only meets them after a moment of deliberation. Leo’s unreadable as always. “How long have you known Hinata and Oboro?”

Rolling back on his heels a bit, he can’t help the curiosity from leaking into his eyes. “Since we were little. Why do you ask?”

A blink. “It’s like that.” And he goes back to the shelves, seemingly done with the topic.

_So he’s been getting stalked since he was a kid. Okay._ He makes a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement, hoping his mild alarm is hidden well enough.

Unfortunately, the isolated conversation doesn't have any world-altering, universe-changing effects, and Takumi finds himself shrinking back against a dumpster in a secluded, secluded alley.

“So,” Niles says, breath rancid and hands braced on either side of Takumi’s head, “Takumi.”

The way he says his name has him squirming, but it’s subdued by the panic lacing through him. Niles stares unblinkingly, singular eye boring a hole into Takumi, and seems to smile at his discomfort.

“Aww, loosen up, big boy,” he drawls, leaning even closer. Takumi very briefly considers bashing his head forward, but he doesn’t have room to hit his assailant with anything other than his face. He closes his eyes against the damp heat of a breath. “You know why you’re here.”

He squeaks one eye open, and sees something more dangerous brewing in Niles’ expression. “L-Let me go,” he manages.

Niles _tsk_ s. “So uptight. You’re no fun to play with.” The back of Takumi’s head is beginning to throb from pressing against the dumpster. “Don’t be cute about it. You know why you’re here.” 

Takumi desperately tries to convey his complete bewilderment in his expression, but all it does is sharpen the grin spreading too-wide across dimpled cheeks.

Niles sighs and it’s _moist_ and Takumi would flinch if he had physical room to do so. “Takumi, Takumi, Takumi.” His name sounds like rotting fruit on his tongue, sickeningly sweet and stomach-rending. Niles dispels his playful affectation (if you could call it that) and bears down on Takumi with a pressure that makes his knees bow. When he speaks, it’s low, more threatening than anything else he’s said so far. “Stay away from Leo if you know what’s good for you.”

And just like that, Niles is out of Takumi’s space. He blows a kiss before disappearing into another alley.

Takumi almost juggles his phone to prevent it from flying to its death in his haste. 

_ >>Leo holy shit your friend just threatened me in a back alley???????? _

_ >>It's really dark _

_ >>I thought he was gonna maim me what the fuck????? _

The bastard doesn't even have the decency to reply right away. Feeling a sudden spike of restlessness, he decides he should probably hightail it out of the stinky dumpster alley before a real mugger finds him.

He walks with stilted, jerky steps, and grits his teeth as the stifling veil of panic continues to press down on him. He doesn’t make it far towards his house before his phone buzzes in his hand.

_ >What _

A spike of anger has Takumi replying right away.

_ >>What do you mean what?? Your crazy friend just threatened me and all you have to say is what??? _

Thankfully the typing bubble pops up immediately.

_ >Calm down, will you. _

_ >I’m trying to figure out why he would do that _

_ >>Does it matter??? _

_ >>Leo wtf _

He has to find a bench to park himself on before the nervous-and-furious jitters get the better of him. He’s breached the nicer part of town, and vaguely wonders what he must look like to passersby -- a flighty teenager in an old kangaroo-pocket sweater covered in dust and dirt.

_ >Give me a moment _

Takumi feels a wrench at the audacity, but calms himself with the thought that Leo’s probably not just blowing him off. They’re past that. He’s probably texting Niles, or something.

This thought is what carries him through the next five minutes, then the ten minute walk home, then the next three hours.

Halfway through his chemistry homework, his phone chimes. His pencil goes skidding across the desk as he lunges for it.

_ >It’s been fixed. It won’t happen again. _

Agitated by the simplicity of the words, Takumi sits on his reply for a moment.

_ >>So what happened?? It’s been like four hours _

_ >Had a long talk with Niles. It’s been settled. He won’t interact with you again. _

Takumi leans back in his chair. _So Leo has enough sway over Niles to make him never interact with me again,_ he thinks, somewhat dubious. He’s not inclined to doubt Leo’s words, though -- he’s never lied to Takumi, at least not on purpose. That’s got to count for something, right?

It’s not enough for his friends, though, whose text conversation he had interrupted to stress-vent about his situation. Hinata had insisted on challenging Niles to a basketball match, no matter what Takumi said, and Oboro was uncharacteristically silent in a way that amps up Takumi’s nerves. He’s not oblivious to her harsher side, and he can practically smell the plotting from his room.

A small knock at the door sends a shock through his chest. Swallowing to force the agitation down, he calls a quick “Come in.”

The door opens just a crack, and something sinks in his stomach as his sister peeks in at him. Seemingly having gotten past the hurdle, she opens the door the rest of the way, shuffles in, and pulls it closed behind her.

Takumi watches her as she shuffles into the room and takes a seat on his bed. She was always the only one allowed into his space like this. 

She stares down at her clasped hands, and Takumi puts his phone facedown on the table and waits.

“Brother,” she starts, voice timid but purposeful, “What happened today?”

He starts. “What? Nothing. I’m fine.”

She peers at him, and he’s struck with a chest-caving guilt. In her eyes is a knowledge, a wisdom reaching beyond her years, one that sees through him. When she speaks, her voice is quiet. “Takumi.”

Guilt spoiling into heat, he scowls. “Sakura,” he snaps, and his anger crumbles when he realizes she doesn’t even react. _She’s used to it,_ he whispers to himself, _she’s used to you being a piece of shit._

She shifts her gaze back towards her hands. She says nothing, unmoving.

They sit in silence, and Takumi can’t deal with it. He’s still agitated, there’s mercury in his veins, and the silence is grating. He scrubs at his face, breaking the stillness with a rough-edged sigh, and when his hands slip from his face his sister is looking at him, expectant.

He’s a coward, so he just says “How’d you know something happened?”

It was meant to be a genuine inquiry, a simple question, but Sakura’s face crumples. She looks more like the fragile girl she’s been lately, but not the one Takumi knows her as. Her lip trembles and a double-edged frost seeps into Takumi’s gut. 

She tries and fails to speak for a few moments. “I’m your sister,” she says, simply.

And Takumi has two sisters. Takumi has a brother too, but none of them are as Sakura is to him, and the gnawing threatens to eat through his chest. Sakura has seen him at his lows and never left him, always offering company when he needs it most, and she’s the least likely person to judge him, he realizes with a pang. And what has he done? He’s rejected her, isolated her, snapped at her. He realizes, in a flash of hard light, that he’s never appreciated her enough.

The self-loathing is shoved to the backburner. Takumi stands from his chair, moving to sit next to her. She averts her eyes. He fiddles with his sleeve.

His throat closes, but he pushes the words out. “I’m sorry.” As the words congeal in the air, he feels hatred, poison and directed inwards, threaten to pierce him, but doesn’t allow it to reach his depths. Not yet. He scratches his knuckle. “I got into a… not a fight, but,” and Gods this isn’t going well, “um, I’m fine. Really.”

“I’m not asking that.” Her voice is surprisingly forceful, and he looks to her in surprise, but she’s looking at her knees. “I’m asking what happened.” Her voice softens. _In concern,_ he reminds himself, _in concern._

“I,” he starts, before realizing he doesn’t know how much he should tell her. On one hand, it seems best to just tell the truth, but on the other, it would worry her. _But she’s worried already_ , he reminds himself, _and what good has it done?_ “I made a new friend.” He gulps. “It’s- Elise’s brother. Actually. Leo. We, um. Got over it. The fight, I mean.” 

She peeks at him curiously, and he’s spurred on. “We play chess at lunch, and he,” he pauses, “has this friend. Who’s kinda weird. And creepy.” Sakura’s still staring, unreadable. He takes a breath and gets ready to say the quickest sentence possible. “Anyway the creepy guy followed me into an alley and threatened me.”

Sakura’s eyes would be comically wide, had the situation been any different. She doesn’t say anything, and Takumi doesn’t know what else to add. Seemingly collecting herself, Sakura takes a deep breath. “Takumi,” she starts, voice wavering, “you’re not in any… t-trouble, right?”

He blinks and she takes it as her cue to continue. “Y-your new friend, i-is he,” and wow her eyes are glossy, and her mouth is wobbling, and it’s time to step in.

“H-he’s fine! He’s perfectly normal!” He thinks. “Leo talked to him and it’s fine. I swear.”

Sakura doesn’t look any more comfortable, and Takumi resigns himself to having made a mistake when she speaks. “Thank you for telling me.”

It’s a quiet thing, a subdued comment, but it makes bitterness and warmth twist up into Takumi in equal measure, twin thorns prodding at his wounds. He looks towards the ground, and says nothing.

He’s taken aback when Sakura hugs him, but it only takes him a moment to reciprocate.

* * *

“Hey, why’d you invite me to chess, anyway?”

The question’s been eating at him as long as they’ve been playing, but he didn’t want to ask due to the blown-glass sense of fragility Takumi had attributed to the situation. As it is, he and Leo have been steadily growing closer, and it helps that they’ve texted daily for the past week -- it seems like Leo’s been trying to steady things between them after the whole Niles debacle.

Leo glances up from the board, meeting Takumi’s gaze above pretentiously-steepled fingers. He looks back down before speaking. “You looked like you needed company.” At Takumi’s inquisitive and slightly skeptical glance, he continues. “I recognized something of myself in you.” He sniffs. “Besides, Niles and Owain are terrible at chess.”

Two months ago, Takumi would’ve taken serious insult to any remark comparing the two of them. Now, though, he just thinks. He wonders what exactly Leo saw -- was it his competitive streak? His meltdown in the gym? With a prick of self-consciousness, he just says “Hm.”

Leo smiles at him, and Takumi’s struck by the realization that he can differentiate between his smiles and smirks now. “You looked easy to beat, too.”

Takumi grins back, happily taking the bait. “Oh, did I? Just like I was easy to beat at tennis?”

“You may have been better at tennis, but I still held a seventy-percent win rate in badminton.”

Takumi _knows_ it didn’t turn out _that_ bad.“Did not!”

Leo’s eyes are twinkling with amusement as he crosses his arms. “Did too. You’re a sore loser.”

“Am not!”

Leo narrows his eyes at him and Takumi laughs, giggling more than anything. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about it. 

In fact, he’s feeling dangerously unrestrained, and he rides the wave. “Y’know, I’m glad you did.”

The smile he gets in response is more than he could have asked for. Leo seems to realize he’s being some degree of sappy, and quickly looks down at the board. “I suppose you're a decent friend.”

_Friend._ Takumi’s giddy, warm inside and out, and it’s amplified at the sight of Leo’s ever-so-slightly reddened cheeks. “You’re blushing!” he exclaims, somewhat louder than library etiquette demands. Leo looks up, indignant but clearly embarrassed.

“No I’m not,” he quickly counters, face colouring more by the second. Takumi cackles.

“Yes you are!”

Conversation ceases for a bit, Leo probably trying to cobble together his dignity and Takumi giving him the space to do so. He does for a bit, anyway, before lightly kicking Leo’s foot under the table.

A single eyebrow arch is his response. “Footsie? Really?” Takumi laughs again, bubblier than he's felt in weeks, and gives another boot.

Soon enough and true to form, they're causing enough of a chair-scooting disturbance to get thrown out of the library. Leo’s face is split into a lip-biting grin, and Takumi feels like he’s glowing. Outside the library doors, Takumi doubles over and cackles. “We did it! We managed to get kicked out of the library!”

Breathy, as if speaking through a laugh, Leo replies with a light-toned “I wouldn't really call it an achievement.”

“Why not? We’re both diligent students, generally quiet, and we play _chess_ at lunch for Gods’ sake. I think it's pretty impressive.”

Leo snorts and deposits himself on the ground against the wall. Takumi follows suit. “Well,” he says dryly, “glad I could help fulfil this dream of yours.”

Takumi shoots him a cheeky grin, and the eye-roll he receives in response grounds him at the same time as it makes him feel like he could be floating.

A jolt of impulsiveness has him sitting straighter. “Hey, how do you feel about Smash?”

Leo looks at him amusedly, but still with a hint of condescension. “As in?”

Takumi scoffs. “Aw, c’mon, don't play dumb. I know you grew up with things like it, even though you like to pretend you were born playing Dark Souls.”

He frowns. “I don't say that.” Takumi raises both eyebrows, maintaining a disbelieving judgement, and Leo sighs. “Yes, I did used to play.”

“Well, do you wanna come over sometime?” Grinning toothily, Takumi leers at him. “I wanna see how easily I can kick your ass at it.”

Leo laughs. “I bet.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, movements wide, silently indicating whatever he’s doing is relevant to the conversation. “I should be free today after school, if the short notice is alright.”

Ignoring the pointed question in his eyes, Takumi furrows his eyebrows. “Did you seriously just check your _itinerary_ before agreeing?”

The motion Leo makes can only be described as a pout. “I’m a busy man.” They're both sixteen. Takumi snorts. “If you're done nitpicking, can you confirm or what?”

He knows the shirtiness is just because of embarrassment, so Takumi takes it in stride. “Yep. I don't need a schedule to know when I'm free.”

That famous sly gaze slides over to him, open and playful. “That's just because you're a simpleton who does nothing, at any point.” The jab hits a little too close to home, so he does what comes naturally and deflects.

“Hey! You don't know what I do! I could be a jock, or something. I could have _sports practice._ ”

A single laugh, genuine and sonorous, surpasses its context as mockery, edging closer to simple happiness. It’s as music to Takumi’s ears, intoxicating and inspiring.

That side of Leo recedes further and further the closer they get to Takumi’s place, after school. Takumi chatters self-consciously, hyperaware of his social position and neighbourhood, but Leo seems to relax once they pass through his house’s gates. Closing them behind him, Takumi turns to see a somewhat bewildered Leo staring at his place.

Laughing nervously, Takumi scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, it’s, uh, kinda excessive-”

“It’s very…” Leo tilts his head. “Traditional.”

_Oh._ “Yeah.” Takumi supposes he doesn't tend to notice anymore, but he can see how it might be surprising architecture in an area full of bourgeois white families. Feeling awkwardness start to seep in, he quickly picks up his step, gesturing towards his friend and saying “C’mon!” just a bit too loudly. With Leo on his heels, he starts to babble. “Uh, we've got an archery range, and, ah, some cool baths -- not that... that would… be something to do but anyway -- it's kinda big because it used to have a lot more people in it, my family was old royalty or something, but now there's only four of us so it can seem pretty empty.” _Oversharing, Takumi, oversharing._ They make it through the foyer and Takumi leads them to the kitchen, tapping his fingers against the counters. “Um, do you want a drink, or something?”

He notices Leo’s amusement, and bristles indignantly, embarrassment rising to his cheeks. Leo smiles. “No need to be so jumpy,” he says, simply. “Let’s just get to Smash.”

The competitive fire stokes a grin for Takumi, and he leads Leo across a few rooms towards his games room. He’s not blind to the wide-eyed way his guest observes his home, and tries and fails at stamping down the self-consciousness. With any other visitor, he’d be proud, preening, but something about Leo makes him nervous about judgement. _My house is_ fine, he thinks stubbornly, sliding open the entryway to the game room.

Leo seems totally unfazed by the room, and Takumi’s not sure whether to feel thankful or disappointed. His guest strides right in, plopping down on the couch in front of the flat-screen, and looks back at Takumi expectantly.

A squabble over the game mode later (any characters allowed, but no items and on Final Destination), Takumi is indeed kicking Leo’s ass.

At another victory screen, Takumi leans back and grins at his frustrated friend. “I don't know why you thought you’d be good at this if you haven't played for years,” he jeers, eyes on Leo’s hunched back. He can't see his face, but he’s willing to bet he has that hilarious bewildered-and-disgusted look on his face.

“It should be like riding a bike,” he mutters bitterly, and Takumi laughs at him. He turns his predictable gaze on Takumi and it locks onto something behind him, his expression draining of its colour. Takumi quickly turns around and meets Ryoma’s calm eyes.

“Takumi,” his brother says, and he can't help a twinge of bitterness at how _soft_ it sounds, as if addressing a child. “Is this a friend of yours?”

And he’s about to explain that _yeah, he’s a friend, don’t worry Ryoma there isn’t a stranger in our house playing Smash Bros next to me after school_ \-- but an abrupt movement quickly draws both brothers’ attention towards their guest.

Leo’s standing up, movements quick and halted but purposeful. “I believe I should be going,” is all he says, and he’s speedwalking out of the room.

Takumi only trades a bewildered look with his brother before vaulting over the back of the couch. He catches up with Leo fairly quickly, but then, the bastard -- he starts _running._

“Hey!” He yelps, but if anything it spurs Leo faster. Takumi skids to a halt at the landing as Leo hops on one foot, tugging at a shoe almost violently.

Takumi punts the second shoe hard before Leo can get it. It hits the wall with a dull _slam_ and both of them stand silently for a moment before lunging for it. It’s obvious which one of them is strongest, though, Takumi pivoting from a successful bodycheck and bending to grab the shoe. He dances away above the ledge of the landing, holding Leo’s remaining shoe hostage. 

“Give me my fucking shoe.”

“Why the fuck are you _running_?”

A prolonged glare. Leo looks down at his half-shoe’d feet and Takumi realizes he doesn't want to hold Leo’s stinky loafer.

Leo sighs. “Look, just,” he pauses, glancing up at his hostage-taker, “Give me my shoe back.” At the sharp increase in defiance, Leo twists his mouth. “I’ll explain.”

Takumi stares him down for a solid few seconds before thrusting the shoe out in front of him. Leo snatches it and grumpily toes it on, giving Takumi a look before opening the door and leading them outside.

They head off the property, through the wrought iron gates and tracing familiar footsteps down the sidewalk. Leo falls onto the first bench they see, and Takumi perches apprehensively next to him. Leo’s grimacing, back ramrod-straight, in a way that reminds him distinctively of what he used to act like.

Before Takumi can make a pointed comment, Leo sighs aggressively. “I didn't realize.” He runs a hand through his hair in more of a hard scratch than a caress. “You're _Hoshido._ ”

“Uh.” A sinking feeling starts to pool in his gut. He’s always known his family company is kind of a big deal, but only in business circles. It’s never come up with anyone other than Oboro and Hinata, and even then it’s only mentioned in passing. “How…?”

Leo bites his lip for a bit before continuing. “I’m… My brother is the current head of Nohr.”

And _holy shit okay._ So Leo’s directly related to Hoshido’s most hated business enemy. And, wow, do they ever hate them.

Their feud is _legendary_ \-- Takumi’s practically been raised on stories of Nohr’s malpractices and generally malicious tactics. They've gone out of their way to screw over Takumi’s family business for generations, from what he’s been told, and they've never not been a topic of conversation at the stuffy company parties he always gets dragged to. Takumi hates them, naturally; they all hate the Nohrians. 

But Leo, he’s not the company. He’s just Leo.

“My brother would kill me if he knew I punched a Nohrian,” is all that spills out of his mouth, and before he can feel too stupid, Leo barks a laugh. They trade a look, and both descend into fitful laughter on a bench on a Thursday afternoon. 

Takumi feels a twinge and his laughter cascades off into silence. Leo casts a glance his way, and he catches it. Neither of them seem to know what to say. The sudden relatability is jarring, almost overwhelming. Takumi’s never known anyone in any kind of similar position as him, much less a near-identical one.

Leaning back, Takumi grimaces and turns his head the slightest bit towards Leo. “Do you get dragged to those awful parties too?”

Leo scoffs immediately, hard and kind of ugly. “Every time. I hate everyone there, but I have to play nice for the sake of the business.” 

“I always sneak away as fast as possible.” Takumi says.

This seems to change something in the air between them. Leo’s eyes are harder, closed. “Takumi,” he starts, in a tone that makes said boy’s stomach plunge and churn, “We can’t keep doing this.” 

Cold panic laces through him. “W-what?”

Takumi realizes, immediately, that he’s never had a friend like Leo. Sure, he loves Oboro and Hinata, he’d do anything for them, but Leo’s just… different. He clicks with Leo. It’s not tiring to be around him (at least not anymore), and where he needs to recharge from spending time with other friends, he seems to _gain_ energy from being around Leo. They share the same interests, the same opinions, they _fit_ together. Takumi feels like he can really be himself with Leo.

Now that there's a risk of losing it, he realizes just how much it means to him that he doesn't have to stifle himself around Leo.

His gaze is steel. “I’m Nohr, you’re Hoshido. If anyone found out about this, it would be a disaster.”

And that -- the way Leo phrased it -- makes it sound like they’re doing something _wrong,_ something _illicit,_ just by being friends _._ It incites ire in Takumi. “We’re _friends,”_ he spits, “who cares?”

“Only every member of both my immediate and extended family, as well as yours.” Takumi opens and closes his mouth, unable to refute the point.

“But- but you can't just--”

“Can’t what? Point out the absurdity of the situation?” And Leo’s eyes, they're -- they're cold, but something desperate swims on the surface. 

Takumi frantically claws at it. “We can just- as long as no one finds out, it’s fine, we can- we can just--”

“Takumi.” 

The resignation in his tone, the interruption of Takumi’s words, it all culminates into a hard pressure that stretches taut across Takumi’s entire body. “Stop cutting me off,” he says, inflection flat but rising, winning Leo’s attention.

“I- I… I-” Takumi takes a deep breath, then sighs heavily, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, hard. “I've never… known anyone like you before. Let me finish,” he barks, seeing the intent behind Leo’s face, which crumbles into a glare. “I’ve never felt-- look, I just-”

He hisses a rush of air out, resigning himself to cleaving open his chest in earnest to drag the words out as honestly as possible. “I'm not good at this. But, Leo, you're the closest friend I've ever had, and maybe that sounds pathetic because we've only known each other for a couple months but I don't know how else to put it, and I just-” his breath shudders, briefly running out of words, “I don't want to lose you. I really, really don't.”

Hazarding a direct look, he sees something youthful in Leo’s face, a sort of openness so uncharacteristic that it makes Takumi blink. It seems to break the spell, and Leo quickly glances down at the pavement. When he speaks, it's soft. “You… really mean that, don't you.”

It's not said with the inflection of a question, but Takumi nods vigorously regardless. The honest reveal of emotion brings a delayed sear up into his face, and he bites his cheeks hard to fight off the embarrassment. “I- I mean, it's just- Sakura and Elise are friends and that's fine, right? It has to be fine, they're just little girls and it- it doesn't matter, what their families are like, because they can be friends anyway and- as long as we hide it, it'll be fine, right? I mean-” He cuts himself off, bites squarely on his lip to stop himself from ruining things even more. 

Leo is silent for a while before he sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “A million things could go wrong here, but I suppose… we could work it out, somehow.”

Bubbles threaten to carry Takumi away straight into the clouds. “You mean it?” Leo nods, almost shyly, and Takumi fistpumps aggressively, channelling all the pent up stress into the moment. Leo just looks on him with something like amusement. Something careful still sticks on his expression, but Takumi doesn't think it's a bad thing.

Takumi stands up, grabs at Leo’s wrists until he's upright and looking a little bit less guarded and a little bit more annoyed. “Come on, let’s go somewhere! Since the house is off-limits.”

Leo smiles crookedly. “Where do you propose we go?”

Takumi laughs, not entirely without a delayed edge of panic, and shrugs as he starts walking. “I dunno! Somewhere.”

They find themselves at Takumi’s favourite ice cream place, and he tells himself the slight tremors in his arms are because of the chill.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at @finersun on twitter come talk to me about leokumis.....


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